In memory of Tom Parker

My Poppy died in 1997. I was 13 years old.

Memories are such ephemeral things; they fade in and out, are brought back to life by a picture, a sound, a smell, a place. They are impossible to grasp, existing just outside of the hard reality of here and now. Yet they’re always with us, right there at the edge of perception, waiting to remind us of where we’ve been, who we’ve known and loved.

I don’t have Poppy anymore, but I have my memories. His laughter; his smile. His wry sense of humor. Working in the yard; going out for a drive. My memories get mixed up in the stories others tell of him, and all of that feeds into how I remember him now. His legacy and his love live on.

My Mom, Patricia Johns, wrote this on her Facebook wall. “Love that is quiet and passionate and infinite.” That is how he will be remembered. Always.

Remembering my Dad, he and Mom would have been married 57 years today if cancer hadn’t taken him so quickly from us in 1997. It seems like yesterday sometimes and other times like forever. Mom – your love together is an inspiration and one of God’s miracles. I have always felt honored to be a child of your marriage. Love that is quiet and passionate and infinite. I love you.

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